Holy Spandex, Batman!
by Idhrenniel the Space Cadet
Summary: Two immature twenty year olds discover that the Joker is a closet Hot Topic shopper. Probobly as AU as it gets!
1. Do I rant too much?

Holy Spandex, Batman

Holy Spandex, Batman!

_By Idhrenniel_

Chapter 1

Has it ever occurred to anyone that those superhero cartoons are seriously unrealistic? Well, other than the fact that they're fictional, of course. But honestly. No one looks that impeccably dressed in real life. Not Batman, or Superman, or _anyone_.

And no, I'm not talking about normal suits that these people might wear while they're in alter-ego mode. I'm talking about their super-suits—of the erm… spandex variety. Sorry, folks. But modern men do not run around busy cities dressed in spandex jumpsuits, let alone use them while they're going bungee jumping, or car chasing, or having a flying spree or whatever.

Cartoons make it look easy. Whatever our dear heroic heroes are doing, their outfits always cling perfectly to their super-abs as if they're posing for a perpetual photo shoot. If _real_ people wear spandex, it always clings in the wrong places, or looks like pajamas, or doesn't fit. And most importantly, it never fails to make real people look unbearably _stupid_.

That's why I'd rather dress up as the Joker. Yeah, so he's got the most insane makeup job known to mankind, but do you realize how fun it is to wear it while making funny faces in the mirror? It's pretty priceless. And if you'll take the time to notice that the Joker's outfit is entirely spandex-less…

But that's not the only thing here. My friend Ellie and I found out that in honor of the now Batman movie, (which by the way is quite spandex-less in its own right,) the store Hot Topic's giving a ten percent discount to anyone who shows up dressed as the Joker. And since we love Hot Topic just as much as we love adventure movies, Ellie's sportingly agreed to help me come up with a seriously kick-ass costume.

The only problem is that she'll probably be spending a ton more than what we'll actually end up saving on our purchase.

"God, Dauntra, will you hold still for one freakin minute?" Ellie's hovering over me as I sit in our newly proclaimed 'makeup chair,' balancing a rather large tray of white powder in one hand and a brush in the other. "Here."

I flinch as… well… whatever she was using… collides with my face and invades my lungs, and I give a loud cough. "Are you _done_ yet?"

Ellie brandishes an intimidating stick of eyeliner. "Not so fast, buddy, you still have a whole layer to go. Now look up."

I won't go into too much detail about this particular makeup process, but I will have you know that my friend has been performing classical ballet for most of her life. So not only can she kick herself in the head with relative ease, but when it comes to stage makeup like this, she's seriously hard core. Putting it mildly.

So about an hour, and twenty pounds worth of eye shadow, eyeliner, lipstick, prosthetics, and powder later, I'm getting green hair dye squirted all over my head before being forced into the trademark outfit.

Ellie's obviously pleased with her handiwork. "Now remember how they mentioned in the movie that the Joker's clothing was all custom-made? Well I analyzed all the promo pictures _and_ the trailer _and_ sewed every little thing by hand just for the sake of authenticity."

I give her a sidelong glance. "Should I be worried?"

She smiles sheepishly. "I don't think so…"

"Whatever." I trot over to the floor length mirror to stare at my new image. Ellie's done such a good job that I'm afraid I'll wet myself if I even try to make a scary face right now. Creepy. But there's just one thing…

"You're too short," Ellie says, sauntering over to stand behind me. "You sure you don't want some stilts or something?"

I give her my best death glare, which is much easier to do in my current getup. "Excuse me? I'm twenty!"

"A very _immature_ twenty. And no offense, but the real Joker is a lot taller than five foot one."

"You mean the actor."

She gives a short laugh. "Right. But still—"

"Are you _certain_ that I shouldn't be worried about you?"

"Okay, okay." Ellie begins digging through her closet. "Never mind."

I sink back into the chair. "Um… Ellie? What are you doing, exactly?"

My friend glances over her shoulder. "Well I'm not letting you have all the fun. I'm coming in costume too."

"You can't _possibly _have had enough time to make two Joker suits."

"Who said I was dressing like him? That's your job, Dauntra. I'm doing my own thing."

It turns out that Ellie's 'own thing' consists of a dark jumpsuit, overcoat, and boots with streaks of her hair bleached dead white. "If anyone asks," she whispers as the two of us climb into her rusty purple VW Beetle, "I'm Rogue from X-Men."

"You know that's not going to get you the discount, right?"

"Dauntra, the looks on those poor shoppers' faces when they clap eyes on us is priceless enough for me." Ellie starts the engine, and we speed out of the driveway at about sixty miles an hour. "Come on, clown prince of crime. Let's see how many Dark Knight T-shirts we can afford with that discount."


	2. Nerd in Drag

Holy Spandex, Batman

**Well! Another chapter up, if that isn't obvious or whatever. I've just seen TDK yet **_**again,**_** and am currently figuring out whether there are more of my friends that I can drag to the movies as an excuse to see even more. ;) **

**What can I say? It's awesome! I can't have my friends missing out no the awesomeness, right? Muahahahahahahahah!! **

**Crap, I sound psycho. I hope you still want to read this chapter after this erm… lovely rant. **

Chapter 2

"I feel like an _idiot_," I mumble, as Ellie drags me through the mall about an hour later. "Everyone's staring at us."

"Not _everyone_," the ever-neutral Ellie replies. ""Those old ladies over there are purposely looking _away_ from us, if you want to get technical about it."

I grit my teeth and clench my fists, making a pair of little girls scream and run in the opposite direction. "Thanks, Ellie. I feel so much better."

She smiles impishly. "You know what you need? To get into character. Give us a Joker quote, Dauntra!"

"What?" I squeak.

"Oh come on, you can do better than that. The Joker's supposed to sound menacing, and certainly does not resemble a mouse with an inferiority complex. Can't you remember anything he actually said in the movie? We've _only _seen it eight times in the past three days."

"I'm not saying anything," I grumble. "Do you want to get us kicked out of here for disturbing the peace even more than we already are?"

Ellie snickers. "Why so serious?"

It doesn't sound like the Joker, but it certainly sounds like Ellie's gone completely insane. "Look," I say. "Let's just shut up, get the discount, and get the hell out of here."

My friend frowns. "I thought you _wanted_ to dress up."

I did." I step onto the escalator. "But notice how I'm using the past tense."

These two guys on front of us give us a weird look, before turning back and talking amongst themselves. Their conversation is faint, but I can still make out a couple words here and there. Something along the lines of "Damn, those girls are nerds."

"Yeah," the other replies. "Nerds in drag."

"I'll give them nerds," Ellie growls under her breath, and I grip her shoulder to keep her from lunging at them.

"Ellie," I hiss. "Chill. Just because you're dressed as that lethal girl from X-Men doesn't automatically give you her powers or whatever."

She sticks her tongue out at me. Jeez, and she accuses me of being immature! But I have to admit that our route to Hot Topic wouldn't have been as clear if we weren't all dressed up like this. I mean seriously. Have you ever had the experience of everyone getting out of your way while you're trying to navigate the crowded mall?

Okay, so the passers by are all just shrinking away in fear, but _still_…

"Oh my God."

Oh, Ellie's speaking again? What's going on now?

"Dauntra—is that… _Little Eddie's Ice Cream?_" She points a shaky hand towards an ice cream shop across from Hot Topic. "I didn't know they had a store here!" Turning to face me again, she's bouncing up and down with excitement, and I can hear the heels of her boots making little clicking noises on the floor. "You want to get some ice cream?"

"I thought we were going to Hot Topic," I say flatly. "Clarification, please?"

Ellie smiles awkwardly. "Uh… could we make a side trip?"

"Ellie, I don't want to stand here in the mall dressed in this outfit a minute longer than I have to!"

"Well fine," She snaps. "Go _ahead_ and diss my awesome costume job. I could have done this all myself!"

I get a guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I didn't stop to think that she might be offended that I didn't give her handiwork a little more appreciation. To tell you the truth, I'm beginning to wonder how she stopped herself from telling me off sooner.

She stalks off towards Little Eddie's, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the mall with this ridiculous outfit on.

"Ellie—wait!" I scream after her regardless of the security officer giving me a hard stare, even though my friend doesn't react. "Look. I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it, okay? I appreciate your costume job. It makes me feel practically terrified of myself—"

"Just go get your discount and wash off all your lovely _painstakingly applied_ makeup in the bathroom or something. I'm getting us some ice cream." Ellie's voice is cold as she ducks into the store.

I give a dejected sigh. I'm beginning to get the impression that the real Joker would have more tact than I do. With such a cheerless thought in mind, I trudge into Hot Topic, even though the thought of the discount makes me feel more guilty than happy now.

And I trip over a rather large pile of Batman T-shirts right as I step over the threshold, nearly falling flat on my face. "What the hell?" I scramble back on my feet, glancing frantically about the place.

Because whatever's going on, it certainly seems a little… weird. Like weirder than Ellie and I weird. There's no music playing on the speakers, almost everything has been thrown carelessly off the shelves, and everything on the walls is in complete disarray. Did a tornado whip through this place or something?

"Oh my God." A voice whispers so softly that it's nearly inaudible. "Miss?"

I narrow my eyes at the twenty-five or so year old lady with the pierced lip that is curled up on the floor by the cash register. "You talking to me?" I reply none too loudly. What's she doing down there?

"Miss, get out! Before they see you!"

"Who?" I ask, the obvious panic in her voice making my heart sink. Something's got to be wrong. Especially if the people here are telling the customers here to leave.

And then I see them. A whole group of guys carrying piles of T-shirts and wearing clown masks that practically look like they've been stolen from the movie set.

"Here's some more," the shortest one says in a gruff voice. "Put 'em in the pile with the rest of them, Bob."

'Bob,' who for the record, has the _ugliest_ clown mask of the lot of them, takes the whole stack without much difficulty and tosses it over to the pile I'd just tripped over.

You've got to be kidding me. They're taking all the stuff I was planning to buy. _Including_ the Batman shirt with the sexy picture of Christian Bale on it.

What makes _them_ have the right to get all this stuff? I mean come on! I'm dressed up _a lot_ more than they are. Well… not that I dressed myself, but I still have a lot more than just a cheap old clown mask. Those retards just wanted to get out of wearing guyliner!

But why is the cashier on the floor? They're not exactly dangerous, are they? Well no offense to those of you who are actually _logical_ out there, but I am not under any sort of impression that it's even relevant.

What I do know, is that Ellie would know exactly what to do in this sort of situation. She wouldn't let a bunch of poser creeps take her merchandise. And neither will I. Maybe I'll get her that 'Why So Serious' T-shirt as a sort of apology-present.

Taking a deep breath, I stride forward in what I'm hoping is a somewhat confident manner. "Hey, you!"

Bob and Short-man turn in my direction, but I can't see their expressions at all. Stupid masks.

Bob pulls out something that looks a whole lot like a gun, but of course _I _know better. In case no one's noticed, you're not allowed to have real guns in the mall. These guys must have needed to sneak quite a bit to get these toys past security.

"I guess you posers think you're friggin creative, don't you?" I sneer. "I bet you thought 'Hey! What a sweet way to pull off the retarded hired thug look!' Huh?" Dude, I'm on a roll! I advance on them steadily, and I don't even flinch when all their little buddies have their revolver-thingies trained on me. "Well I'll tell you something right now, you friggin idiots! I'm dressed up a lot more than you, and _I_ should get that discount! _Me_! No one else! You know why?"

I glance at them with the scariest smile I can muster, looking each one of them straight in the eyes. "Because no one… _no one at all_… can beat my best friend's awesome makeup job."

There, Ellie. See? I _do_ appreciate you!

But I hear a burst of insane laughter from inside one of the dressing rooms that for some reason sounds eerily familiar. "Really?"

I stop dead in my tracks. Whoever this guy is, he's got an even better imitation than Ellie. No offense to her. But honestly—no one can possibly be _that _dead on.

"Hehe…" I back up slowly. "Okay, you guys. I get it. You're all the henchmen and you've hired some professional Heath Ledger impersonator from Vegas or somewhere. It's _really_ clever, I'll give you that. But can I at least have the sexy Christian Bale shirt? I deserve to get a reward too, don't I?"

But I feel the barrel of a gun poking my back, and I immediately clamp my mouth shut. Between the seemingly 'free' items they're all taking and the cashier cowering on the floor, I finally put two and two together.

"Holy crap! Who do you think you are, the Joker?"

The laughter again. It chills my spine, as the owner of the voice struts out of the changing room.

**Ha! Cliffie! I'll try to update more soon. I've just got the soundtrack off iTunes, so I'm on a roll. ) **


	3. This Guy's Such a Poser

Holy Spandex, Batman

**Alrighty. I am **_**so**_** sorry I didn't update sooner. But school's started up again, and I haven't had as much time on my hands. Though I have seen TDK yet **_**again**_**. I'm basically all out of money now since I've spent it all in the theater. Many, many thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and I hope you like the next chapter! **

Chapter 3

Okay, I'll admit that I've been abnormally slow on the uptake here, but when you go to Hot Topic, you don't generally expect to be in the middle of some warped holdup. I guess it technically _can_ happen, but it's like you have this misguided assurance—'It happens to other people, but it won't happen to me. My life's too normal for that.' Yadda yadda yadda.

But _this_ is just taking it to the next level. Seriously, guys. How many of you have been face to face with a whack job who thinks he's a comic book villain? Not many of you? I thought so.

So it might be hard to relate to my current… erm… predicament. The man standing before me is taller than I am, with the signature makeup going on, and the hair—but not the outfit. He's got the pants and shoes and stuff, but not the shirt. He's changed the shirt.

It's one of those Joker shirts they sell at Hot Topic—you know, the ones with the 'Why So Serious' line printed on it along with a picture of his face?

"A shirt with your face on it—how convenient. Can you honestly get _more_ narcissistic?" I mutter darkly, shrinking away from the thug that's still unceremoniously pointing a gun at the back of my neck.

My attempt doesn't work so well. "Shuddup." Bob grabs my arm in a grip that will most likely leave a rather large bruise in the near future. Not that I expect to be very _alive_ in the near future. I'm beginning to have my doubts. Shorty's tying my arms together with a length of rope, and shoves me to the ground.

'The Joker' ambles forward, licking his painted lips like some crazed anaconda. In the heavy silence that's started to engulf the store, I feel his gaze on me—flickering in no conceivable order from my garish outfit to the tips of my handmade shoes to the sticky makeup that's so identical to his own.

_Oh my God. _My heart sinks. Is he… _checking me out? _Eew. Just… eew.

"Well I'm _flattered_." Gah, it's that voice again! Sounds like it's come straight out of the movie as far as I can tell. Figures that the one person insane enough to actually believe that he's really the Joker has to have such a convincing performance.

But on the bright side, he's probably not checking me out after all. He's just admiring my awesome costume. Phew! For a moment there I was beginning to get _really_ worried. Not that I'm not worried already. But you know—

"Hel_lo_."

I give a very visible jump as I realize that this guy is now seriously in my personal bubble. Along with a rather dangerous-looking little pocket knife that is very, _very,_ close to cutting my mouth into little ribbons.

"That _is_ a nice… outfit you have there." _Like Hell it is. _"Where did you get it?"

Ellie. Oh God, Ellie. I mentally pray that the ice cream line is long. Really long. My eyes widen, and I begin to shake in spite of myself.

He gives an almost hysterical laugh. "Are you scared, little costume girl? Hehe! Are you _scared_?"

He does that weird lip-licking thing again, and I can smell his breath as he opens his mouth. And let me guarantee you that it _doesn't_ smell too pretty.

I jerk my head out of the way, but he grabs my chin and forces me to look in his direction. "Look at me!" Gah, now he's all mad now!

But you know, it just suddenly occurred to me that I'm feeling a bit like a damsel in distress. Like in the actual Batman movies, you know? Except my clothes are seriously ruining _that_ particular effect.

If only I could magically figure out how to kick this dude's friggin poser ass, maybe I'll feel a little better about this.

"I'm not scared," I mutter, but suddenly I become much bolder. I mean, I'm going to kick the bucket soon anyway, right? "But has anyone ever told you how bad your breath smells?" I snap. "Go rob a Rite-Aid or something; I think they have some very nice mints there. Or maybe even some _Listerine_?"

I'd be completely freaking out now if it wasn't for this rather amusing mental image of this 'Joker' trying to use Listerine.

"Uh… boss? She's kinda right you know." Shorty laughs nervously from behind me, and Bob gawks at him like a drowning fish. Can't say I blame him either. Figures that the one time I give in to a minor death wish, someone else has to take even more extreme measures than me. Holy upstaging, Batman!

To my utmost relief, the knife moves away from my face. But the 'Joker' pulls out a gun and shoots it straight at Shorty. I feel something whiz passed my ear, and I hear the man fall down with a sickening thud behind me.

Oh my God. Oh my God, _eew_. I shudder, with good reason I think, but the knife is back at my face again in an instant.

But my head clears. "God, poser. I thought you liked to use knives more. Losing touch with your…" I clear my throat rather pointedly. "_Impersonation_?" Gee, I'm so full of witty comments today…

For a fraction of a second I feel him stare at me, before it is drowned by an insane cackle that makes me kind of regret that I've decided to act on my apparent death wish.

"_Im—impersonation_?" He can barely speak through his own laughter. "Do I _look_ like—"

"Yo, Dauntra! You in there?"

_Ellie_. I panic in a freakish moment of heart failure. There is no way in _hell_ that I want her to come in here. My eyes dart around, and I am painfully aware that all my captors are staring at me.

"H-hey…" I stutter, the words trailing off in my dry throat. The 'Joker' brandishes his knife the moment I open my mouth, but the damage is already done.

"Oh thank God, I couldn't see you anywhere from here!" She's so happy. So oblivious. But if I give her any warning my throat's going to look very Sweeney Todd-ish _very quickly_.

"I got your ice cream—it's chocolate, your favorite." She pauses. "Sorry about what I said earlier; I overreacted a little bit there."

And here I'm letting her walk into danger. Now come on. I thought I was better than that!

Because when I really think about it, Ellie wouldn't let that happen to anyone, whether she knew them or no. And I owe her the same.

"Ellliiiieee!" I shriek, making a couple of freak minions wince. "There'sthisfreakydudewhothinkshe'stheJokerwho'stryingtokillmewithabigknifeDON'TCOMEINHERE!" Ha! Said it too fast for anyone to cut me off mid-sentence. Oh, I feel so noble…

But my little burst of 'heroic joy' is kind of short-lived. Mainly due to the fact that the 'Joker' is brandishing his knife at me and I have to sidestep into the T-shirt shelf to avoid it. Thank God that T-shirts are squishy.

But whatever. I—

"What did you say, Dauntra? I can't hear you, you're speaking too fast."

_Crap_. I can already hear the distinct sound of my friend's heavy leather boots on the floor.

The 'Joker' flashes a sinister smile. "Well who is… _this_?"

I snap my head towards the store entrance, and sure enough there's Ellie, ice cream cones in hand and eyes widening at the sight before her.


End file.
